


Islands Unto Ourselves

by ChellaC



Series: Islands Unto Ourselves [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, Multi, Nightmares, Post-Digestivo, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-The Great Red Dragon, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChellaC/pseuds/ChellaC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Hannibal turning himself in, the survivors are left to put their pieces back together. However, not everything fits back where it did, and despite having distanced themselves from each other, they will have to reconcile their shared pasts. For Frederick and Will, this just happens to entail sharing a house. Or; in which Frederick discovers being a good dog-sitter is really all it takes to get into Will Graham's good books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone:) This is my first Hannibal fic. Midway into season 3 and with the unfortunate cancellation I'm still denying looming in the near future, I figured it was about time. This goes along with the canon television story line up until Digestivo, at which point I use artistic license to write my own series of events rather than what we see after the time skip. (Not that I don't love Molly and the time skip story line). So, spoilers up to The Great Red Dragon, which will likely be referenced but not followed as canon in this story. More relationships and characters will be added as I go along. If you see any mistakes, I would appreciate critique! I hope you enjoy! And if you want to talk/cry about this show, feel free to contact me at spmarsh.tumblr.com.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal. All credit for the original series to Thomas Harris and the TV adaptation to Bryan Fuller.

At night it felt like floating. Will Graham’s boat of a house bobbing in the dark, over the snow and trees. Frederick could close his eyes and turn to fog, rise, seep into the air and through the cracks in the door. Despite the initial annoyance, he was glad for the dogs, for their wet noses nuzzling his hand and their incessant barking bringing him back down to earth, solidifying him. He could see their appeal, for someone unanchored to reality.

                Someone like Will Graham, who had his handgun leveled at Frederick’s face.

                He dropped the grocery bags, putting his hands in the air. Will’s eyes were wide, so white and startling. He imagined he wore a similar expression. The scar on his cheek throbbed, once. Psychosomatic. Phantom pain. It still hurt.

                “You’re back,” Frederick said, his knees shaking. He’d dropped the cane too. He swallowed to clear the lump in his throat, what felt like his heart climbing free. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t shoot.”

                Will had already lowered the gun. He stayed seated on the bed, head cocked and hair mussed, looking uncannily like his dogs had, the first night Frederick had come to take care of them rather than their owner. Frederick waited for him to speak for a moment. When he didn’t, Frederick hurried to fill the silence.

                “Your dogs,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice shook. “Your dogs, I’ve been feeding them. And, letting them out, and washing them, and- whatever else dogs need.”

                Will was still silent. His gaze flicked over Frederick, taking him in- the oversized jacket and jeans taking the place of his usual suit, cheeks flushed from the cold and the panic. His hands, still up, trembling.

                “I may have also, er, moved in, so to speak, at some point,” Frederick said. He coughed, lowering his hands and wrapping them around himself.

                Will’s lips curved up. It was almost a smile, certainly close enough. “I was wondering who’d bought all that frozen yogurt.”

                Frederick flushed, but he could feel himself relaxing. “Yes, well, you didn’t leave much to eat.”

                Will stood, crossing the room. Frederick took a step back, stumbling a bit. He leaned against the wall to stabilize himself.

                Will picked up the groceries, setting them on the kitchen counter. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Frederick. I’m not angry.”

                It was still strange to hear Will say his first name, last used when he’d visited the other man in the hospital. He supposed he could return the gesture. “Forgive me, Will, for not being entirely sure where we stand right now.”

                Will was taking the dog food out of the bags, putting it in the cabinet below the sink. “We’re in my kitchen.”

                “What? No, that’s a figure of speech, I meant that it would not be entirely implausible for you to feel angry that someone whom you don’t consider a friend had taken the liberty to live in your home and- are you laughing at me?”

                Will had a hand pressed to his mouth, his shoulders shaking with his low, muffled laughter.

                “No, sorry,” he said. “I know what you meant. Just, I can’t say I really expected this.”

                “You should have,” Frederick said, voice quiet as he watched Will put the groceries away, still leaning against the wall. “What with your…talents. If you’d given me any thought, you would not have been surprised.”

                “You couldn’t go home,” Will said, his back to Frederick as he put the vegetables in the fridge. “You could barely get through the front door. Everyone you had any remaining connection to, who could possibly understand, was in the hospital, didn’t want your help, got together themselves. So you…tried again. Came here.”

                “I suppose it’s only fair for you to be the one poking around in my head now,” Frederick said, picking up his cane and walking to stand across the counter from Will. The other man’s mouth twisted up. It was odd to see him so much more expressive than he’d been in Baltimore.

                “I suppose,” Will said. “This isn’t about revenge, though. I’m done with that. I kept my promise.”

                Frederick nodded. “You got him.”

                Will’s stare bore into the countertop. “Oh yes, I’ve got him. Right where he wants to be, just hours from my house.”

                “Thank you,” Frederick said. It seemed the only thing left to say. He was all out of words for this man he didn’t know, the only person who knew him at all.

                “I should be thanking you,” Will said. “For taking care of them. If you hadn’t been here, who knows what would’ve-” he broke off, and Frederick didn’t mention the splatters on the counter, dripping from Will’s cheeks. He wiped at them, taking a breath.

                “It was no trouble,” Frederick said. “And not entirely unselfish, as you know.”

                Will shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I could use some help around here.” He glanced up and met Frederick’s eyes before looking back down.

                “You…could?”

                Will nodded. “You still don’t want to go home, do you? You still see them, he made sure of that, the way he disemboweled them just for you.”

                “Ok,” Frederick said, just to make Will stop. The other man’s teeth closed together with an audible click.

                “Sorry,” Will said. “He’s still in my head, too.”

                “It’s fine,” Frederick said. “We’re fine now.” He ran his tongue along his prosthetic, smooth and cooler than the rest of his mouth.

                “I don’t think I feel fine,” Will said.

                “How do you feel?” Frederick asked. Will glanced up, and huffed out a laugh when he saw Frederick was smiling.

                “No offense doctor, but I think I’m done with seeing psychiatrists.”

                “Understandable,” Frederick said. “I sometimes wish I could say the same, but it’s part of the business, you know.”

                “You’ve been working?”

                Frederick looked down, twisting his cane. “Not recently. You’d be surprised how long one can extend a leave of absence after being shot in the face. But I’ll have to return soon, if I don’t want them replacing me, which I can only assume wouldn’t be hard to do, now that none other than Hannibal the cannibal has come under my care.”

                “Braver than I’ve been led to expect from you, Frederick. It must take some guts to consider going back to work there after everything.”

                Frederick’s words came out sharp, and Will looked up in surprise. “Yes, we all know those tend to be in short supply for me, don’t we?”

                “What? No, God, I didn’t mean it like that,” Will said, biting his lip.

                “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that particular brand of comedy,” Frederick said. “And if we’re being truthful, which I may as well be, considering you already know so much about me, it has nothing to do with bravery. Image, Mr. Graham, is, despite everything, still a commodity I’d like to preserve as much of as I can. It’s a matter of saving face, if you will,” he said, his own grin painful in the way it stretched his skin.

                “I really didn’t mean it like that,” Will muttered. “I’m sorry. And you don’t have to do that.”

                “Do what? Go back to work? I’d rather like to, now that Lecter is there.”

                “No, you don’t have to talk about yourself like that. Not with me, at least. Trying to, make all the jabs you can at your own expense, before other people get the chance. It’s giving me a headache, just- calm down. I’m not kicking you out.”

                “You’re what?” Frederick said.

                “You can stay. We’ve already established you have no desire to go back to your own house, and I don’t mind you staying for the time being. You’ve been looking after my dogs so long, I owe you.”

                “Let’s just call it even,” Frederick said.

                Will nodded. Another tiny grin. “We can do that.”

                Frederick moved upstairs to the guest bedroom that night. He took the pillows he’d brought downstairs to Will’s bed back up, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious he’d been using the other man’s bed for the past few weeks. It likely was, and he blamed his inability to sleep that night on the embarrassment rather than the creaking of the old house, the creeping shadows and disconcerting lack of dogs. None of them had followed him up, all sleeping soundly around Will. Traitors.

                After two hours of tossing from side to side, he admitted defeat. Wrapping a jacket around his shoulders and grabbing his cane, he went quiet as he could down the stairs and out the back door. Winston followed him out, Frederick wincing at every click of his claws against the floor.

                He sat heavily on the step, running a hand through Winston’s fur as he looked out across the light snow cover at the trees in the near distance. It was cold, but not unpleasant. It made him feel aware. It made all his aches sharp, his scars twinge, but still his heart beat petulantly against his ribs, _alive, alive, alive_.

                It could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours before Will sat beside him. He could feel the other man’s eyes on his face, now revealed in the soft glow of the outdoor lamp. He resisted the urge to turn away or to meet Will’s eyes, not wanting to stop him from seeing. No gauze, no prosthesis or contact lens or makeup. He swallowed, the feeling of Will’s gaze strangely intimate. The last time someone had looked at him so intently, it had been Mason Verger’s beady, shark-like eyes tearing him apart. Needless to say, this was far less unpleasant, though still not entirely comfortable.

                “I don’t understand why you’re still alive,” Will murmured.

                Frederick looked over at him, and Will flushed, looking at his hands.

                “I- I didn’t mean that to sound cruel,” he said. “I just meant, with me, Hannibal always wanted me to live. But so many people have really tried to kill you, and they’ve succeeded with so many others. Why not you?”

                Frederick looked away. “Believe me, you’re not the only one to wonder that. I’ve come to the conclusion that I am immortal.”

                Will hummed. “I wonder what that makes me. We match, after all.”

                Frederick felt the same strange tug he’d felt the first time at those words. Like his heart pumped harder than usual.

                “In result, yes,” he said. “Not quite in practice.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “You said it yourself. Hannibal wanted you alive. He wanted you to bear a sign of him. Of…mercy. In my case, the intended result seems to typically consist of shame and humiliation, if not the entire deconstruction of self. I would consider the both of us a remarkable success.”

                Will was silent for a moment. Then, “I rejected his mercy. I told him I- that I didn’t want to know anymore. Not where he is, what he does. And you, you’re still here. Maybe a little less of you, a little less ego, but not much. So where does that leave us?”

                “Here, I guess,” Frederick said. The cold had reached inside, numbing him. If he looked up, there was nothing to tether him. Wide black sky speckled with stars in every direction. Winston squeezed himself between them, lying down. He and Will both reached out to pet him, his fur still warm, both their hands frigid. Frederick shivered when their freezing knuckles brushed, and kept his eyes on the jagged tree line.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again:) I finally saw And the Woman Clothed in Sun- it was so good. I love Reba! Here is the second chapter, it's a bit of a transition as the actual events in the story start to pick up and more characters come in. Thanks for reading everyone. Also, thanks so much to those of you who commented on the last chapter, your nice words meant a lot to me. I'm very glad people are enjoying the story so far, I hope you continue to like it!

                                Having been unable to go back to sleep, Frederick found himself in Will’s kitchen scrambling eggs at seven the next morning. He wasn’t surprised when Will joined him only moments later.

                “What’re you doing?” Will asked, still dressed in his t-shirt and boxers. He sat down at the table, opening his laptop.

                “Making breakfast,” Frederick said. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

                “I don’t know, I guess I just never pictured you being so…domestic,” said Will.

                Frederick flushed as he scooped the eggs onto a plate. “We can’t all live off dust and corn flakes, Will, as you seemed to have been doing, if the state of your home when I got here is any indication. You’re welcome,” he said, setting the plate beside the laptop.

                “You made me eggs,” Will said, staring at them.

                “No, I’m cooking for the plethora of guests I’m having over today. Yes, Will, I made you eggs. Is there something wrong with them?” Frederick said. He almost cringed at his own tone, but he was feeling defensive, not having expected to need to explain himself.

                “No, not at all,” Will said, taking a bite. “They’re good.”

                Frederick turned around to scrub the pan so Will wouldn’t see him smiling about scrambled eggs. “It’s not rocket science, Will.”

                “You can’t eat these, can you,” Will said.

                “I probably could, sparingly,” Frederick said. “But no, it wouldn’t be the best thing to do.”

                “You got up at seven in the morning just to make me breakfast.”

                “This is not a difficult concept, yes I did! Do you have something against breakfast?” Frederick turned to look at him. Will was looking at his laptop, clicking away.

                “No, but I do have something against you trying to pacify me with food. I already said I’m not going to kick you out.”

                Frederick groaned, sinking into the seat across from Will. “Does everything have to have an ulterior motive with you? Can’t you just-just flick your empathy switch onto low power, or something?”

                Will snorted, covering his mouth. He didn’t reply, and Frederick was content to leave the silence uninterrupted as he poured himself a glass of orange juice from the carton he'd set on the table.

                “Disgraced head of Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane last seen in the produce isle,” Will said.

                Frederick almost choked trying to swallow his drink. “What?”

                “First glimpse of disfigured psychiatrist walking FBI profiler’s dogs.” Will looked up, then back down. “Oh. These are almost all about you.”

                “Are you on Tattle Crime? Get off of that!” Frederick said, scowling.

                “You knew about these?” Will asked, still reading.

                “Of course I know about them, I’m considering bringing her to court.”

                “These are scathing, even for Freddie Lounds. I guess she ran out of material with most of her typical subjects abroad,” Will said.

                “Yeah, thanks so much. It’s not as if I haven’t been slandered enough, might as well add the collective vitriol of the tabloids.”

                “Look on the bright side, it won’t be long until she’s back to writing about me. I can only imagine what she’s got to say about this mess,” Will said. He rubbed his temples. “Have you been in contact with her? Does she know we’re both here?”

                Frederick shifted, taking another sip of his drink. “We’ve been in casual correspondence, yes. As you can see, I haven’t been very successful in getting her to abstain from writing about me.”

                Will’s phone rang from where it sat on the couch. He made no move to pick it up.

                “Are you going to answer that?” Frederick asked.

                Will shook his head. “Not in the mood to talk to anybody.”

                “Oh. This morning must have been very unpleasant then, sorry,” Frederick said.

                Will waved his hand, dismissing Frederick’s comment. “Not you, you’re fine. You live here. I doubt anyone else would be so eager to hang around me.”

                “What makes you say that?”

                Will shrugged, still scrolling. “I’m no longer needed.”

                Frederick scrunched his nose, unable to suppress the scornful expression. “Just because you’re not playing whodunit with the FBI doesn’t mean your friends won’t want to see you. That’s why they’re called friends, Will, not just colleagues.”

                “Gee, doctor, I never thought of it that way,” Will said, rolling his eyes.

                “It’s a wonder Crawford didn't strangle you with that attitude,” Frederick said. “Honestly, Will, they’re all probably worried about you. You should call whoever that was back.”

                “I don’t want them to be worried about me. There’s no reason to be, I’m fine, and they all have enough else to deal with right now. Besides, you’re being a hypocrite. I don’t see you socializing.”

                It was Frederick’s turn to roll his eyes. “Because it went so well, the last time I tried to speak with any of those people.”

                Frederick jumped as his own phone went off. It vibrated on the counter as he stared at it.

                Will was grinning again. It was a little lopsided, and brightened his whole face. “You gonna answer that?”

                “Yes,” Frederick grumbled, getting up and checking the screen. His eyes widened when he saw the caller as he walked to the front door.

                “Who is it?” Will asked.

                Frederick put the phone to his ear, hurriedly closing the door behind him. He wrapped his spare arm around himself, stepping into the sun to ward off the cold.

                “Took you long enough to pick up,” Freddie said.

                “What do you want?” Frederick asked. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Freddie, I asked you to take those articles down. You know I don’t want to take legal action, I am asking nicely.”

                “You’ve been on my website? I thought it was, and I quote, ‘a dreadful waste of time only the trashiest of miscreants would bother reading’?”

                “I’m not, it is, I mean, Will’s reading it,” Frederick said. Said man was now peeking his head out the door, listening. Gossips, the lot of them. However much Will disliked Freddie, Frederick couldn’t help thinking they all could’ve gotten along in another life. A life with less Hannibal Lecter.

                “Of course he does, I always write about him. Wait, Will Graham’s reading it right now? You’re with Will Graham?”

                Frederick glanced at Will, who stared somewhere around his left shoulder. “None of your business, Freddie. How should I know?”

                “Um, because you literally just said he's on my website? Because you’re living at his house, walking his dogs?”

                “Yeah, about that, would you please stop stalking me? Those articles are quite hurtful, you know. I have feelings.”

                “Oh, I know you do. I also know I promised to take them down if you’d give me an interview,” Freddie said.

                “I don’t want an interview, goddammit!” Frederick stopped to take a deep breath. Will’s eyes had widened. He looked away. “Listen. I’ve tried to be understanding of your less than reputable livelihood, given certain…circumstances, but-”

                “Circumstances I’d still like to interview you about,” Freddie cut in.

                “Let it go! It’s old news, no one cares anymore! I don’t want to see anything else about myself or Will Graham on your website, ok? It’s not conducive to a therapeutic environment to have you poking around in personal matters.”

                “You’re not his therapist, Frederick.”

                “Goodbye, Freddie.”

                “You’ll give me what I want eventually. You’re a people pleaser, Chilton, and I am one of the few sticking around to take advantage of that. Also, tell Will to answer his phone.” She beat Frederick to hang up first. Sighing, he turned to face Will.

                “Freddie Lounds wants you to answer your phone.”

                “All the more reason not to,” Will said. They both paused, the muffled sound of its ring coming from inside. With a quiet groan, Will pressed his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes. “I wish they’d just let me disappear. What do I have to do to be allowed to withdraw from society in peace? Catch a serial killer?”

                Frederick laughed. “I had no idea you were so melodramatic.”

                “The mood strikes more often than I’d like to admit,” Will said. “Are you taking notes, doctor? This is a rare privilege. Normally I don’t take misery loves company to heart.”

                “Can't say I'm in a note taking mood. I'm doing my best to pretend I'm on vacation. Your home does have a bit of a rustic cabin feel to it.”

                "You're passing up an opportunity to study me?” Will said. “Are you alright? Doesn't seem like healthy behavior.”

                “Neither is actively secluding yourself from society, but here we are. I guess we’re both just full of surprises. It’s freezing out here,” Frederick said. Will’s cheeks had turned pink from the cold, his teeth so bright against his stubble as he smiled.

                “Let’s get inside then. Can’t have you catching a cold, not after you’ve taken such good care of my dogs.”

                Frederick followed him in and sat on the couch, watching Will get his laptop and sit on the other end of the couch.

                "Now what?" Frederick said.

                “You managed to stay busy for months, and now that I'm back you want entertainment?"

                “Busy is a general term. There are only so many times I can mop the floors."

                “I was wondering why it was so clean in here."

                They lapsed into silence, Frederick scratching behind one of the dogs' ears. He caught Will watching his hands and thought for a moment the other man would get possessive and tell him to stop petting his dog, and had to suppress a laugh at the thought. He thought about Freddie Lounds. He'd been trying to control his temper out of some misguided sense of gratitude- the woman had saved his life, after all, or at least maintained it for a while. But she was really pushing it. 

                 Will's couch was small, and even without touching he could feel the warmth of the man seated beside him, as well as the dog resting in his lap. Frederick let himself relax, his eyes falling shut. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was. How long had it been since he'd gotten a full night's rest? The question wasn't worth answering. If he was being honest, it was before being vivisected, and even then it was spotty. He could hear the sound of Will's laptop fan in the quiet room, and then the sound of his phone ringing, again. He fell asleep to its tune.

                 Loud barking and someone banging on the door woke him. Disoriented, he jolted up from his slouched position, wincing at the sudden movement. It was still bright out, only a couple hours could have passed at the most. Will was already opening the door.

                 "What are you two doing here?" Will said. He hadn't opened the door wide enough for Frederick to see, but there was no doubt about whose voice it was.

                "Making sure you haven't run off into the wilderness," Alana said. "We were worried, Will."

                 "If you’re not going to, I guess we’ll just invite ourselves in,” the other woman said, and then she was pushing the door open.

                Alana Bloom and Margot Verger stepped into Will’s house, both holding pans of food. They were bundled up for the weather, and Will looked especially scruffy in his t-shirt and boxers beside them. Frederick assumed he didn’t look much better. He wondered if there was enough time for him to slip upstairs and hide until they left, but Alana’s eyes had already found him. They widened as she looked him over, though her expression stayed neutral. He belatedly realized she hadn’t seen him since he was shot, not what he looked like. In that moment he was sure his desire to break eye contact rivaled Will’s, but he forced himself to hold hers.

                Will was still standing beside Margot, his arms crossed, barring her from walking any further into the hosue, while Alana and Frederick continued what was becoming the world’s most awkward staring contest. Tension was clear in everyone’s posture.

                Margot sighed. “I’ll just go put these in the fridge, then.”


End file.
